


Everything

by missdibley



Series: The Red Nose Diaries [67]
Category: British Actor RPF, Tom Hiddleston - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Birthday, Birthday Sex, Existing Relationship, F/M, Feels, Fluff, Oral Sex, Smut, intercourse, the red nose diaries, tom hiddleston - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 11:01:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11229585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/missdibley/pseuds/missdibley
Summary: Carmen has a birthday. Tom helps her celebrate.





	Everything

previously:  [ “something red” ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3536699)

**Chicago. March, 2015.**

_ “Happy birthday to you…” _

Tom sang from where he lay between Carmen’s legs. His head rested just so on her left thigh while his fingertips idly traced patterns on her right. He could still taste her on his tongue, and was utterly content.

Carmen, hearing the smirk in his voice, smiled at the thought of it as she stared up at her bedroom ceiling. Tom deserved that smirk, she thought. Earned it, in fact.

_ “Happy birthday to you…” _

She sighed, then closed her eyes. Carmen felt lightheaded, as she was only just getting over a mild spring cold. She had had a slight headache, but that was before. Before he emerged from the shower, naked but for a red clown nose stuck to the tip of his nose. Before he crawled into bed, made her laugh by stroking his semi-erect cock and calling it his “special thermometer”, and then went down on her.

_ “Happy birthday dear Carmen…” _

And now she felt the mattress shift as Tom crept up from the foot of the bed to join her. Carefully, he lay himself at Carmen’s side, then drew the blanket over them when she curled up against him.

_ “Happy birthday to you.” _ Tom whispered the last line before turning his head to look at her. He smiled when she kissed his shoulder.

“I’m sorry, you know.” She peered up at him.

“Whatever for?” Tom arched an eyebrow in confusion.

“It’s a beautiful day…”

“Your birthday in fact,” Tom reminded her.

“Yes, and…” Carmen yawned. “We’re stuck in here.” She frowned. “Stupid cold. I hate being sick.”

“But you are feeling better, yes?” When she nodded, he smiled with relief. “Good girl.”

Carmen shut her eyes as she nuzzled Tom at the chest. She threw an arm around him, then let herself simply melt. Illness tended to make her clingy. Eager for the scent and the warmth of his skin, the soft puffs of breath on her forehead that preceded the touch of his lips to her temple, she felt safe with him.

Tom hummed tunelessly, improvising a lullaby for her. Like lullabies often do, it soothed her to sleep. When he felt her drop off, he kissed her again, then got out of bed. Finding the old jumper and sweatpants he often wore as pyjamas rolled up in his suitcase, he dressed quickly then let himself out of the bedroom.

Her apartment wasn’t large, but it was well-appointed. There was plenty to keep him occupied and entertained. Books and movies, music in the form of CD’s and a few vinyl records crowded the bookshelves that reached the ceiling, organized according to a mysterious system that Tom supposed was known only to Carmen. He stretched out on a deep turquoise couch, looking at but not really reading a paperback copy of The Iliad he found. He set it aside when he caught sight of a photo album on the glass-topped coffee table.

When Tom opened the album, a few photographs along with a note printed on heavy, expensive paper.

> _ March 1, 2015 _
> 
> _ Carmen —  _
> 
> _ I hope this note finds you well, and ready to volunteer for the alumni association come the spring. We have many events planned for the months leading up to Alumni Weekend in June, and we are counting on your continued leadership. _
> 
> _ While I understand that there was a minor incident during the donor tour of the library in January, Mrs. Harper assures me that neither you nor Mr. Hiddleston were to blame. As she is a longtime donor, we value her input and her relationship with the University. _
> 
> _ I thought you might enjoy the enclosed photographs from the luncheon and library tour. The ones with tabs affixed to them are candidates for inclusion in the alumni magazine. All of them are yours to keep. _
> 
> _ Best regards, _
> 
> _ Peter V. Taliaferro _ _  
>  _ _ Assistant Director, Global Engagement _

The photographs were candid shots of the donor group as they enjoyed an elegant meal in a serene wood-paneled dining room. A few of the lunch pictures included Carmen looking thoughtful as she listened to neighboring diners, then authoritative from behind a podium as she delivered prepared remarks. When he got to the pictures from the library, Tom laid them out on the table, in what he supposed was chronological order.

He was in a few of them, sort of lingering on the periphery of the group as they were welcomed by the senior librarian. The ones that included him were not candidates for the magazine, which was a relief. Not that he would have expected them to be but his facial expressions didn’t help. The fluster, or was it the cold, that made his face and ears red when he was looking at her. The blush in her cheeks as she glared back. The distance between them that seemed to close in the last trio of photographs from the set.

Tom was once again overcome by that feeling. The snowglobe feeling from the day they met. When time slowed, and there was nothing to do but watch the world reveal to him something new, strange and wonderful. A flash of sunlight and all of a sudden there she was, walking to him across a busy library. Making his breath catch, and his heart skip a beat.

When he returned to the bedroom and got back into bed, he couldn’t help kissing a still sleeping Carmen upon the lips. Tom raised his head when he felt her lips move against his, and smiled when she opened her eyes.

“What?” She met his smile with a sleepy grin of her own. “Was I asleep long?”

Tom shook his head. “No, and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s alright,” she said sweetly, stifling a yawn

“It’s just that.” Tom bit his lip. “I just figured something out.” He reached for her hand, squeezing it in his own. “Something I thought you should know.”

“Oh yeah?” She asked. “What is it?”

“Carmen. I think… I think I…” 

“Yeah?” She kissed his hand. ‘What is it?”

“Carmen.” Tom took another deep breath, then kissed her on the forehead. “I love you.”

Carmen looked up. Her lips were still caught in a pout from the soft kisses she had been dropping at the base of his neck. “What?”

Before Tom could repeat his declaration, she pulled him in for a kiss. This was a good sign, thought Tom. But still he paused.

“It must seem... “ He gasped as she began to suckle on at the base of his throat “Abrupt. Sudden.”

Carmen shook her head. “No it doesn’t.”

“No?” Tom asked.

“No,” repeated Carmen. “I’d say it’s about the right time for you to fall in love with me.”

Tom laughed. “Silly.”

Carmen lifted her left arm, as if to inspect an imaginary watch on her wrist. “Take a note, Hiddleston. On this, the last Monday of March, in the year of our Lord 2015, you… state your name.”

“Carmen…” Tom sighed.

She dropped her arm, bringing her hand to rest on his cheek. “Tom?”

“Yes, love?”

“I love you, too.”

“Thank you, love.”

Carmen hugged him. “So what do we do now?”

“How do you mean?”

“Do we celebrate?”

“A fine idea,” said Tom, feeling lighter with every second. He began to pull off his jumper.

“Wait! What are you doing?” Carmen laughed when she saw his hair standing up on end.

He blinked at her. “I’m getting ready to celebrate, because we just declared our love to each other.”

“With sex?”

“Well…”

“I’m not saying no,” Carmen admitted. “But can’t we just be romantic for a bit?”

“We can’t be romantic in bed?” Tom was confused.

“Well, of course, we can. But…” Carmen looked down at herself. “I’m still wearing your old t-shirt. You’re wearing sweatpants.”

“So you’re saying we should change into more romantic clothes,  _ then _ have sex?”

“No! Let’s just…” Carmen looked out the window. “Go for a walk? Get a waffle? Mark the occasion somehow.”

“Uh huh…” Tom tried not to sound disappointed.

“And  _ then _ we have sex,” said Carmen brightly. “The first time we ‘make love’...” She rolled her eyes. “After we said ‘I love you.’”

“Seems like a waste,” muttered Tom. “When we’re just going to do it anyway.” He laughed when Carmen bopped him with a pillow. “Oh fine. Whatever my love commands.”

“I like the sound of that.” Carmen got up and headed to the bathroom.

“And besides,” said Tom, following her down the hall. “If we’re going back to bed, then we should definitely eat. Hard to shag on an empty stomach.”

* * *

**London. March, 2017. Part 1.**

“Wake up.”

…

_ “Wakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeupwakeup.” _

…

“Carmen.”

…

“Button.”

…

“You’re awake.”

“No I’m not.”

“Yes you are.”

“Shuddup.”

“You have to get up.”

“Why?”

“It’s your day, love.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Happy birthday.”

“Thank you.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Roomie.”

“Oh lord.”

“No more overnight bags.”

“You’re always packed, anyway.”

“No more of my pants lost between your flat and my house.”

“Easier access for me, anyway.”

“Naughty…”

“Well it’s true.”

“And good for me.”

“I’m going to hang my stockings up to dry everywhere.”

“Fine, as long as you hang your bras and knickers up for me to ogle.”

“Even the fat lady period panties that look like parachutes?”

“ _ Especially _ the fat lady period panties that look like parachutes.”

“I’m going to put a karaoke machine in your study.”

“I’ve always enjoyed singing as a break from work.”

“If I see another chia seed pudding in the refrigerator…”

“But it’s good, and good for you.”

“So are chocolate croissants.”

“How about we compromise with, erm, chocolate chia seed pudding?”

“That sounds disgusting.”

“It’s quite good.”

“Is it?”

“Well, it’s not entirely bad.”

“Get out of my bed, Thomas William.”

“Don’t you mean  _ our _ bed?”

“Out!”

Carmen showered alone on the morning of her 38th birthday, despite Tom’s protestations that it was tradition in their household that nobody should ever shower by themselves ( _ “It’s tradition now? I thought it was just one of your kinks.” “Like it couldn’t be both?” _ ). Sending him downstairs to sort out breakfast, she took her time getting ready.

Though most of her wardrobe was still packed in cardboard boxes that sat in a corner of the guest bedroom, Carmen’s work clothes had already found room in Tom’s closet. It was there that she found the notes he had left for her, brightly colored squares of paper pinned to a few items. She saved a few of the cards after she dressed, presenting them to Tom when she joined him in the kitchen.

“Oh!” He pressed a kiss to her temple as he set down the coffee pot. “You found my notes.”

“Yeah, I did.” Carmen shook her head at him.

“What was that for? Why are you frowning?”

“You know, another guy might have written something like ‘I love you’ or ‘Have a nice day,’” said Carmen.

“What did I write?” Tom asked casually.

Carmen picked up one of the papers and squinted at it. “This one says ‘This skirt makes you look eminently fuckable.’”

Tom peeked under the table. “Well,” he replied soberly. “It does.”

“Ass!” Carmen crumpled the note and tossed it in his laughing face. Her eyes lit up when she finally got a good look at her plate. “This is beautiful.”

Tom smiled shyly. “Thank you, love.”

She dazzled him with a smile of her own. “What is it?”

“A waffle with bananas, cream, and toffee.”

“A banoffee pie waffle,” sighed Carmen, picking up her fork and knife. “A banoffle.”

“Exactly,” said Tom.

“Since when do you own a waffle iron?”

“ _ We _ own a waffle iron, thank you. And I ordered it off Amazon,” Tom said through a mouthful of waffle. “And you should know, this isn’t the only thing I’ve got planned.”

“Oh?”

Tom nodded but said nothing.

“Birthday things?”

He tried to look innocent.

“Tom,” Carmen said with a smile, “I hope you’re not planning anything crazy.”

“Oh, love.” Tom set down his fork and knife and scooted closer. “Nothing crazy. Just, you know, supper here. Maybe another tiny surprise.”

“Okay,” said Carmen, “you’re flying to the States tomorrow morning. Low key dinner at home. I like it.”

“I wish it could be more.” Tom faltered. “You gave me such a perfect birthday this year.  [ TomVent ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9638924) and the daily gifts. The karaoke party, model boats. He kissed her cheek.  [ “The naked food fight.” ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9642218)

Carmen turned her head to him, returning the kiss. “You don’t have to do anything, no need to reciprocate. I love you, Tom. It was my pleasure.”

“Oh  _ now _ you tell me,” said Tom. “The strippers should be here any moment now.”

“Oooh!” Carmen returned her attention to the waffle. “I should get to work on this, then. Can’t bang strippers on an empty stomach!”

When she left for work, Tom went into the study and turned on his computer. He sighed as he opened the browser. The 18 different tabs that he had been looking at the night before were still there. Each tab displaying a product or experience that would be a wonderful present for Carmen’s 38th birthday. All he had to do was click “Buy” or “Book” or “Reserve”, and the question of what to get her would be sorted.

The previous year,  [ they had been in New York. ](http://archiveofourown.org/works/6537862/chapters/14957542) He was able to steal a few days from the intense promotion of  _ I Saw The Light _ and  _ High-Rise _ and  _ The Night Manager _ in the States so they could celebrate her 37th birthday. Tom would have been happy to repeat the experience, maybe substitute Rome or Paris for New York. But a lot had happened in that year. He had made moves for the sake of his career, moves that were mistakes. He hurt people.

He hurt her.

A lot of things went wrong. But he got one thing right at least, Tom thought to himself. He got her back.

One by one, he closed tabs. Narrowing it down to three possibilities. Then two. And finally one. It was the tab he kept flipping back to, even as he found new things to give her. It was, he felt, the riskiest. But with Carmen back home, her books in boxes waiting to return to their shelves in the lounge and some furniture that just needed prodding into their proper places, Tom felt ready to take a chance.

Tom found his phone and called the number on the computer screen. Yes, the item was still available. Yes, he could stop by today to examine it and, if he liked, purchase it. No need to leave a credit card number, the kind voice on the phone explained. They looked forward to his visit that afternoon.

Shutting down the laptop, Tom whistled as he went up to take a shower and get ready for lunch with Ken. Lunch, a little light shopping, then a quiet evening with his girl for her birthday.

* * *

__ I'm sorry but I'm just thinking of the right words to say  
__ I know they don’t sound the way I planned them to be  
__ But if you wait around awhile I’ll make you fall for me  
__ I promise, I promise you I will  
When In Rome, “The Promise”

**London. March, 2017. Part 2.**

“It’s fine, love.” Walking hand in hand, Carmen leaned her head on Tom’s shoulder as they walked up the road to dinner. “It wasn’t that bad.”

“How long before the kitchen stops smelling like fish sauce, do you think?”

“I’m sure it will be gone by the time we get back.” She shrugged. “And even if it doesn’t, no biggie. I’m Filipino, remember? Filipino houses  _ always _ smell like fish sauce.”

“And I guess we do live in a Filipino house, don’t we?” Tom ventured.

“We do. Or we will, once I get the karaoke machine installed in the bathroom.”

“I thought it was going in the study?”

Carmen shook her head. “Better acoustics in the loo. All that ceramic tile.”

The restaurant, a pizzeria near the tube station, was humming with activity. The patio was set up on the sidewalk in front, with heat lamps warming guests as they tucked into sourdough pizza. The French doors were left open, making it easy for servers to attend to their tables, and even easier for children to run around while their parents haggled over the bill. When the host tried to find a quiet corner for Tom and Carmen, they demurred, and gladly accepted a small table just inside the French doors. A harried waiter cleared dishes and wiped down the tabletop with a damp rag.

“How was your day?” Carmen set down the menu without looking at it, as she always got the same thing.

“It would have been perfect if the pot of adobo hadn’t exploded all over the kitchen,” said Tom balefully.

Carmen shrugged. “It happens.”

“And if the cake actually said ‘Happy birthday Carmen’ like the bakery promised instead of ‘Congrats on the new tits, Geraldine’”.

“I thought the toasted coconut breasts with raspberry nipples were a nice touch.”

“They were very pretty,” Tom said with mock seriousness.

“How’s Sir Ken doing? Was it the usual orgy of Shakespearean declamations at lunch today?”

“He’s quite fine, and no,” laughed Tom. “It was not.”

Supper was two pizzas, Tom and Carmen trading halfway through while they drank cider and tried not to let their elbows get hit by the children who played nearby. There was no cake on the menu, but Carmen was fine with having cake back at house anyway. Even if it was the wrong cake.

“I’m sorry, you know,” said Tom when the waiter set down the bill.

“For what?” Carmen tilted her head in confusion.

“For this,” replied Tom, looking around the room. “It was just pizza and cider. Not much of a birthday party.”

“But it’s lovely, baby.” Carmen smiled. “I love this place.”

“I should have booked somewhere nicer.” Tom pouted. “But I wanted to make you dinner.”

“We can make dinner together when you get back.”

“Next week, when it’s not your birthday anymore.”

“It will be your welcome home dinner,” insisted Carmen.

“But I wanted it to be perfect…”

“There you go again,” retorted Carmen. “Perfect, schmerfect.”

“You deserve perfect, love.” Tom leaned across the table to take her hand. “Carmen I…”

“OH MY GAWD!”

The girl at the next table was shrieking, for the young man who had been her dinner companion was now on his knees, holding a diamond ring in shaky hands. Grabbing it from him, the girl stuck it on her ring finger then flung herself at her fiancé.

Tom and Carmen laughed and wished them well, gamely taking pictures of the ring and then the two of them on the couple’s phones. After Tom paid the engaged couple’s bill in addition as their own, he joined Carmen out on the sidewalk where she waited for him.

“Nightcap?”

The walk home took them past their local, which was still a good thirty minutes away from closing for the night. Tom shook his head in response to her question, but he did stop. She looked especially pretty, dreamy almost, in the soft glow of the lights attached to the pub’s exterior.

“Carmen, I didn’t know what to get you.” Tom wrapped his arms around her.

“You got me something?” She asked. “You made me that delicious breakfast. And then we had a nice supper.”

“Yes, but…”

“And now,” she said with a gleam in her eye, “we get to go home and shag.”

Tom bit back a laugh. “That we do, miss.”

“But before you take me to bed, you have something.” She nodded at the lapel of his jacket. “In that coat pocket.”

“How did you know?”

“You were sort of fiddling with it, like when we went for Valentine’s Day dinner.” Carmen tried get a peek inside his jacket. “Is it another key?”

“No,” said Tom, withdrawing a ring box. “It’s not a key.”

He held his breath as Carmen plucked the box from his hand, letting her go reluctantly when she stepped back away from him. Carefully, she pried apart the two halves of the lid, revealing an emerald-cut aquamarine set on a gold band.

“It’s your birthstone.” Tom took a step forward, cupping her hands in his. “I know you don’t wear much in the way of jewelry.” His smiled at her. “Just those pearl earrings, your late father’s watch sometimes. And the button.” He smiled at the sterling silver button that hung around her neck.

“I love the button,” she whispered. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He closed his hands around hers. “And this ring… I know we were engaged. Before.” Tom shook his head. “And then we weren’t.”

Carmen nodded and while her eyes filled with tears, they did not leave his face.

“So I thought, when you came back, that it was more than I could have hoped for. Certainly more than I deserved.”

“Tom, this isn’t about deserving. I just…” She shrugged. “I just love you.”

“But I need to make it up…”

“Stop it, Tom,” Carmen said fiercely. “I don’t want you to feel bad about this. Not anymore. If there’s anything you deserve, it’s to move on. We both deserve that.”

“And I’m so grateful.”

“Okay, but Tom?” Carmen searched his face. “Stop it.”

“What?” Tom asked.

“Stop being grateful. Stop acting like it’s your dumb luck we’re standing here, together, about to head home to the house that we share. Stop thinking I love you despite everything, that the love I give you is given begrudgingly, piecemeal, with reservation.” Carmen kissed his fingertips. “I don’t want you to think… not even for a second. Not even after… Because the way I love you… you have to know. Maybe I don’t show you enough. But it’s everything.” She peered up at his tear-streaked face. “I’m giving you everything.”

Tom took her in his arms, holding her so tight it took Carmen’s breath away. They stood there, unaware and uncaring of the few people leaving the pub who might have been asking themselves why the couple they were used to seeing cracking jokes at the cafe around the corner, or bickering over what movie to see at the independent cinema up the road, were now crying in each other’s arms.

When Carmen’s sobs subsided into almost dignified sniffles, she looked at the ring again. Tom took it and placed it gently on the ring finger of her right hand. He kissed her cheek when she looked up at him questioningly.

“This isn’t a ring of engagement. Not unless you want it to be.”

Carmen nodded. “Okay.”

“But it is a promise,” said Tom as he took her hand to resume the walk towards home. “To be true.”

“True?” She squeezed his hand.

“True to you,” he said. “And, perhaps, true to myself as well.”

Carmen looked pleased. “I like the sound of that.”

At home, the kitchen no longer smelled like fish sauce but it still needed to be cleaned. Tom insisted that as the birthday girl, Carmen needn’t lift a finger but she helped anyway. While she filled the sink with hot soapy water to soak the pans, Tom loaded the dishwasher. They wiped down counters and put away the birthday cake dedicated to the mysterious Geraldine, she of the new breasts.

Tom was about to suggest curling up on the couch for a spot of television when Carmen stopped him at the foot of the stairs up to the second floor.

“Come to bed with me,” she said in a low voice.

Tom nodded, and followed her upstairs to their bedroom. She undressed him, and then herself.

“Everything,” she said, pushing him gently back onto the bed and climbing on top of him.

“Everything,” repeated Tom. He took a deep breath. “Everything.”

Carmen began by kissing. Though she deepened the kiss, she pulled back when he responded eagerly. Slowing him down but not stopping. Like she had all the time in the world, and all she wanted to do with that time was kiss Tom.

The leisurely pace she took, kissing down his neck and to his shoulders, moving off him so she could lie at his side and run her hands up and down his abdomen, was contrasted by the intensity in her eyes. Carmen was focused, and absolutely sure. It had been a long time since the first time they had met, the first time they had kissed, gone to bed together. But there was wonder, like she was seeing him with fresh eyes.

She lingered at his left hip, her mouth forming moues as she pressed kisses on that spot. Tom was in agony, the delicious sort, as he waited. But he managed a chuckle.

“What?” She grasped his left thigh and squeezed it gently. “Am I taking too long?”

“Oh no,” murmured Tom. “Not at…”

Carmen cut him off when she swallowed his semi-erect cock, sucking on the head between slow, lavish licks from her tongue. Her mouth was warm and wet, and she was deliberate in the way she teased him. Tracing veins with the tip of her tongue, or stroking the shaft slowly with her hands while she would take his balls into her mouth.

Somehow Tom hadn’t been able to look away. Despite the intense arousal and an overwhelming need to lie back and simply let her take him, he couldn’t look away from her. The dark hair as it fell around her face, tickling him as she continued her ministrations. Her soft lips, and small hands as they touched him, adored him.

There was nothing elegant about the way she hollowed her cheeks, drawing him further into her mouth. Where was the grace in him clutching at her head, muttering “I need you” and sighing with relief when she released his erect cock before climbing back on top of him. She stroked him a few times then sank down, making tiny whimpers as he filled her. But when Carmen began to rock, gazing down at him with a look so full of love Tom thought he might explode, it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

He held her tightly, kept his head up so she could kiss him again. He couldn’t thrust up so well, but still. It felt so good, being so close to her and inside of her. This was more than simply feeling the love she had for him. Tom knew it.

“Wait,” he whispered. It pained him to do so, but he used his large, strong hands to slow her down. He held her hips, then braced himself so he could roll them over. It was clumsy, but she was laughing beneath him now. A sight and a sound that Tom could never get enough of. Going up on one knee, Tom grasped her left leg and draped it over his hip. He pushed into her, until he was fully seated, and took a breath before moving in earnest. Carmen brought her hands up to his neck and let them rest there. She never took her eyes off his face, though he could feel her tightening around him. Pulling him closer with her leg, squeezing him from within when he pulled away.

“Please,” she moaned, and Tom collapsed. Arms wrapped around each other, they couldn’t quite kiss anymore. But they were so close now, almost desperate as they clung and they fucked, him thrusting so hard because close wasn’t close enough and if there was a way they could meld he would have been happy. Happier than he was, if that was even possible.

There was tension in his body, every muscle clenched and intent on seeking and giving pleasure. Maybe he was tired but Tom didn’t care. Not when there was her, Carmen with her flashing eyes and her soft body, saying  _ please _ and  _ yes _ and  _ I love you _ and  _ oh Tom _ , the litany floating over the sound of blood rushing in his ears. And, perhaps mundanely, the squeaking of the mattress.

And then Carmen stopped. She dug her nails into his back and held on, crying out as she came. It was crowded and hot between them now, but she refused to let go. Shuddering as she did, Carmen still needed the weight of him on her. The hardness inside her, even as he quickened and sped up and went faster and pushed harder and then it hit.

The stillness, and how quiet it could be even as she shouted her name. Coming inside her, Tom felt weak but not depleted. Light but not empty. The tension he had held was gone, and replaced by an entirely familiar and utterly welcome sense of peace. He breathed. She breathed. And then they spoke.

“Well that was something…” “You alright, Button?”

They laughed.

“You first,” said Tom.

“Shower?” Carmen asked. “I know I denied you this morning, but I really did have to get to work.”

Tom shook his head. “Bath.”

Carmen kissed  his chest. “Better.”

“I know,” replied Tom. Slowly, reluctantly, he eased himself up then guided her into the bathroom. On the sink were votive candles waiting to be lit, and small bunches of peonies waited in jam jars around the room.

“Is this for me?” Carmen peed quickly, then washed her hands, as Tom started the water. When he cleaned up, she put down the lid of the toilet and sat. He joined her there, sitting on the floor at her feet.

He kissed her knee. “Yes, love. The candles and your favorite flowers.” He grinned. “And there may be a bottle of very expensive bubbles lurking by the tub.”

“It’s perfect.” Carmen leaned down to kiss his temple. She stayed there, feeling his pulse under the warm skin.

“It’s everything.”


End file.
